


Fever

by ORiley42



Series: Smallville Episodes: the Clex Edition [2]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, Feelings, Fever, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Missing Scene, S2:E16, lex-centric, of course because lex is made of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:19:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5031769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ORiley42/pseuds/ORiley42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark dying? It doesn't compute. But Lex can't deny it when the evidence is right in front of his eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fever

**Author's Note:**

> “Fever” missing Clark/Lex scene. This ep had a scene where Chloe comes and holds the unconscious and very sick Clark’s hand and spills her heart to him, but then he mutters Lana’s name and breaks her lil heart. And then I thought hey LEX should be doing this scene, goddammit, he’d be all worried about his bestie being so sick. So I wrote it, and it’s angsty and emotional and a bit over the top…but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

When no one answered his knock, Lex tried the handle and found the door to the Kent home unlocked. _Ah, the openness and trust of the country_ , he thought to himself, amused. He stepped into their homey kitchen, usually full of light and wonderfully scented with the day’s baking, but which was now shadowy and cold. Was Clark upstairs, and that was why he hadn’t heard Lex? Or, the thought occurred to him with a sick twist in his stomach, maybe Clark’s condition had worsened to the point that he’d been moved to the hospital with his mother. As Lex strode around the corner into the Kent’s living room, the sight of Clark lying pale and motionless on the couch froze him mid-step.

            Clark hadn’t got so much as a sniffle since the day Lex had met him, the boy hadn’t even gotten a scratch after Lex ran him off a damn bridge at 60 miles per hour. Lex had once told Clark that he was the luckiest person he’d ever met – what Lex hadn’t said was that _he_ was the one who was truly lucky for having met Clark.

            _He’s just feverish, that’s all_ , he tried to console himself _. He’ll be fine_. But even spoken in his head the words rang false.

            Lex did his best to ignore the lump rising in his throat as he slowly moved closer to the couch where his best friend lay, looking as if he was already sinking into the icy embrace of death. He tried to ignore the frantic voice in his head saying that given Martha’s deteriorating condition, Clark might very well die. _He’s gonna die, asshole_ , the most horrible voice among the chorus in his head sneered, _he’s gonna die, and his secret will die with him, and you’ll never know what it was that made him so special_.

            _And he’ll never know how special he was to you_ , a different voice whispered, softer, but perhaps even more terrible that the first. That voice said things like “ _tell him the truth…you’re stabbing him in the back with every step you take to investigate him and his past…if he finds out he’ll never forgive you…and you would never be able to live with that_.”

            Lex took the last few steps towards the chair tucked next to Clark’s sickbed, collapsing into it as if all the breath had been ripped from his lungs. _He’ll be fine_ , the reassuring voice chanted, but it was being drowned out by all the others. What would Lex do if Clark died? How could he cope if Clark’s beautiful light just faded away, right then and there in front of him, and the world was forever bereft of the sunshine that composed his very being?

            Waxing poetic was never a good sign in terms of his emotional stability, Lex noted darkly as he hung his head, pressing his hands against his face as if that could hold back the tears that were suddenly burning behind his eyes. It was too much, too suddenly, too dreadful to contemplate. He’d come over here expecting to see Clark propped up under a nice warm quilt, sipping on some chicken soup (homemade, of course) and watching crap TV while he recuperated. He’d expected to be greeted with a sweet, if tired, smile, and then Lex would’ve joked about how Clark wasn’t actually invulnerable after all, and Clark would have ducked his head to hide his grin, and Lex would have patted his shoulder, wished him well, and gone on his way. Instead, here he was, watching perhaps the only person other than his mother who’d ever really mattered dying in front of him.

            Because the gray tone to Clark’s skin, the sheen of sweat glittering on his face, the painful, labored way he dragged in breaths all told Lex that Clark was dying. Lex had seen it before, with his mom. Terror clawed its way along his insides as his mind was seized with the parallels between the two. Just as it was with Lex’s mother, Clark would fade away into the past taking all the light and good in the world with him, and Lex would never be okay again.

            He couldn’t accept that.

            Lex surged forward, grabbing one of Clark’s hands with both of his and squeezing it tightly.

            “Hey, Clark can you hear me? It’s Lex. I need you to hear me. I’m worried about you. And you know how I am when I let my emotions get the better of me, I do stupid things. So you need to shake it off, I need you out here. How am I supposed to cope without you? I’ll probably get run down by a semi or something without Clark Kent there to save the day.

            “C’mon, wake up, you’ve walked away from more near death experiences than is remotely probable for any human being, and now some little fever is gonna take you down? Take you away? Take you away from…” Lex’s voice choked off abruptly as reality once again set his heart pounding in a panic. _No, Clark can’t die, dammit, it’s not allowed. Certainly not before he even knows that you…that you…_

            Even the bravest voices in Lex’s head didn’t dare speak the words that he knew with every fiber of his being were true. _Not before he knows how…_ important _he is to you_ , they conceded, since the real word for how Lex felt about Clark had been struck from his vocabulary, from his being, a long time ago.

            “Lana…” Clark muttered, making Lex jump so violently he almost toppled out of his chair.

            “Clark!” Lex leaned in, trying to force his voice to be steady as he reached out with one hand and gently touched Clark’s shoulder.

            “Hey, Clark can you hear me? It’s Lex. I’m here.”

            But Clark was still once again. The relief that had flooded Lex’s chest at Clark’s voice mutated suddenly into a brief, seething rage before he could lock it back in its cage at the back of his mind. _Of course he’s thinking of Lana as he dies_ , the monstrous voice taunted Lex, _what did you expect_? _For him to confess his undying affection for you on his deathbed? That’s_ your _fantasy, you twisted old man_. Lex shook his head, trying to shut the voice up but it was a futile endeavor. As usual, Clark’s presence had managed to pull down the walls around his mind, his soul, his…his heart, and now all the voices were free – but Clark’s light wasn’t here to protect him from the evil, dark ones. Clark might never be able to save him from anything, ever again.

            Lex exploded to his feet, suddenly filled with a vengeful determination that he’d drag every doctor in the world to Smallville at gunpoint if that was what it took to pull Clark back from the edge. He would do everything in his power to save Clark, up to and including giving his own life if only to see Clark beam innocently up at him once more.

_Yeah, sure, you say you’d give your_ life _for him, but would you tell him the_ truth _about all your deceit? Would you tell him about all the half-truths, the bald lies, the on-going drastic invasion of his privacy, if your life depended on it? If_ his _life depended on it? Would you tell him about the PIs and that room in your mansion and the ravenous obsession eating away at your mind?_

            “Shut up,” he muttered aloud even as he scrolled through the contacts on his phone, trying to think who else he could call that he hadn’t already summoned when he’d heard of Martha’s illness. As the dial tone rang out on one of the first last-ditch attempts to come to his mind, Lex leaned down and in a moment of weakness gently pressed his lips to Clark’s forehead. Clark’s skin burned too hot against Lex’s mouth, but he didn’t want this moment, this connection to end.

            He pulled away jerkily as a recorded message began to play in his ear and disgust rose in his chest - disgust bearing his father’s image screaming “weakness, _weakness_!” He tamped down on that feeling only for a different kind of sickness, a mix of anger, desire, jealousy, devastation and joy to take hold as he stumbled through his mental minefield of repressed emotions and haunting memories of other missed opportunities. The demons inside of him may bear his father’s face, and Lionel Luthor may have instilled them there inside his heart, but Lex’s own anger and darkness had kept them alive and hungry through the years. One moment of weakness…for it was weakness, nothing else would have caused him to dare to defile with his poisoned touch that holy person who was the bringer of light in his dark world. He wouldn’t show such weakness again.

            “I swear to God, Clark, I’m gonna get you better. I’ll find a way. And when you’re well again I promise they’ll be no more secrets…I’ll tell you…I’ll…” Lex let his words trail off and die. He’d already made too many promises to Clark that he couldn’t keep.

~*~*~*~

            “I don’t know,” Clark shrugged, as Lex joined him in his loft the day after his and his mother’s miraculous recovery. “I just have this weird, nagging feeling that there was something you were gonna tell me.” He threw his doe-eyed gaze Lex’s way, and Lex studiously avoided it by examining the breathtaking horizon offered by the loft’s window.

            “Well, all I really have to say is that it is _very_ good to have you back, Clark.” Lex smiled as he leaned in, squeezing Clark’s shoulder and letting his hand linger there as Clark treated Lex to one of his megawatt smiles. “It just wasn’t the same without you.” Lex patted Clark’s arm one last time before turning away to hop in his Ferrari and zoom off to Metropolis. He had some business function or another to attend, he couldn’t be bothered to care what exactly it was when he was beset by the knowledge that everything of real importance was in Smallville.

            “It is always better to leave too early than too late,” his father had warned him long ago. “If you don’t stay long enough, you may miss a moment where things should have been said, it’s true. But if you stay too _long_ , then the heart may take hold and things are said that should never be spoken and which can never be taken back – and that is a far worse fate.”

            As Lex stomped on the gas and squealed away, leaving Clark waving goodbye in the dust as he had a hundred times before, he clutched the steering wheel tightly at the mental onslaught of all the things that he could’ve, should’ve, would’ve said…things he might have said if he’d been stronger, or maybe weaker… if he’d been able to find the words…if he’d stayed that little bit longer…If he could just quiet his mind’s demons and quell the fever of his mind.


End file.
